


Like Lightning

by kittycastles



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, No Sex, Romance, ace!kira, greysexual!Scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:31:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2846234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittycastles/pseuds/kittycastles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott spends most of his time in his apartment, alone. Kira spends most of her time at work or with Malia. But then Scott catches a scent, like metal and lightning. Worried that something could be dangerous, he follows the trail and finds something else.</p>
<p>~~~</p>
<p>Written for the Beacon Hills WoC network secret santa exchange, for steen aka <a href="http://christmaspterodactyls.tumblr.com">christmaspterodactyls</a> aka <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/AFireInTheAttic">afireintheattic</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Lightning

The first time Scott caught the scent he was crossing the street, head ducked against a cold wind. He jerked his head up and sniffed at the air, stopping in the middle of the road.

He thought it smelled like fire and metal and crackling energy, streaks of bright blue and amber. This wasn’t so strange to him, he had become used to smelling in colours and textures. But the scent was overpowering and pervasive; Scott tried to find some sort of trail, but he could barely catch a direction, the scent hung all around him, dizzying. A car horn blared and he jumped back onto the sidewalk as the car raced past, expletives hurled out of its window.

Dragging in another sniff, he tried to get a trace on the source. But he couldn’t pin it down, the scent clouding everywhere but coming from nowhere.

 

Two days later, he called Deaton.

“I keep smelling something.” It was hardly detail-laden but Deaton still sounded measured and calm as ever.

“I imagine it would be hard for you to not be smelling something, Scott. Especially in a city as big as New York.”

Scott shook his head, even though Deaton, back in Beacon Hills, probably couldn’t see him (he could never be sure, sometimes it seemed like he could). “That’s not it. It smelt different, way different. Like, supernaturally different.”

“For something like this, it would be better to talk to another werewolf.”

“You don’t think you can help?”

“I don’t think I have the vocabulary,” Deaton sighed. “We don’t smell things the same way, Scott. Have you spoken to Derek?”

“I tried but I think he’s still in South America, with everyone else.” Scott looked from his cramped kitchen out through the skinny little window beyond, valiantly letting in what light it could. “I’m kind of alone out here. At the moment, at least.”

Deaton didn’t reply for a moment. Scott thought it was less a frustrated silence than a thoughtful one.

Eventually, he said, “Try and describe it to me, I might be able to help.”

Scott was silent this time, searching for the right kind of words.

“I think it was like… just after lightning hits. When all your hair stands up.”

“That’s what it smelled like?”

Scott rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Or felt like, I guess. Like lightning.” He thought a bit longer. “Lightning in a forest, maybe.”

There was quiet on the other end of the line and Scott vaguely heard Deaton’s voice, under his breath. It wasn’t muttering, but more like his mouth quietly shaping words as he skimmed through his mind.

“I have some ideas, but I think they’ll need time. I’ll need to do some research.” From somewhere near Deaton came a yowl and the rattle of a metal cage. “And I have an angry cat.”

Scott smiled. “Thanks Deaton.”

“It’s no problem.” He sounded almost as though he was going to hang up. “And Scott?” he added. “Be careful.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t go looking, Scott. You said it yourself, you’re alone at the moment. Don’t put yourself at risk.”

Scott’s eyes were fixed in the distance.

“I won’t.”

It seemed sombre, but they ended the call. Deaton had to return to the clinic, leaving Scott alone in his little apartment, somehow smaller without a full pack to fill it. Allison was living in dorms, on the other side of the city and the rest had all gone to South America, to visit Cora and maybe even bring her back.

Scott had barely noticed the winter light fading so quickly and was left sitting in the dark. Refusing to brood, he reached out and hit the light switch. The bulbs flickered on, save for one, which fizzled and sparked and then died.

 

_Click-click_.

“Light’s out.”

Kira turned.

“What?”

_Click-click_.

Malia flicked the switch on and then off again and three of the main lights buzzed out and then hummed back on. One of them stayed dark.

“See? I wasn’t lying.”

Kira was already rummaging through a cupboard, pulling out a box of globes. “I know, I believed you.” She crossed round the bar, dragging a chair off the top of a nearby table. She stepped up, and slotted the bulb in place, tossing the old one over to Malia. She caught it on instinct, not looking up from her phone. As soon as the lightbulb screwed into the socket, it began to burn bright; Kira hadn’t bothered to turn off the switch.

She began to set down all the other chairs, pulling them down from the tables and dragging them into place. Malia stayed by the bar, picking from the previous night’s bar snacks.

“You could power this whole place, couldn’t you?” she asked around a mouthful of pretzels. “I bet it would save us money.”

“I guess,” Kira answered. “It would be kind of exhausting, though.”

Malia shrugged. “Exhausting is tracking and chasing and killing a deer. That just sounds like a hassle.”

“Malia, you won’t even help set up, I don’t think you can talk about ‘exhausting’.”

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause you always do. Besides, I close up. You’re always too tired.” Somehow Malia had managed to settle herself behind the bar without Kira noticing. “Why spend the energy if we’re both going to do something?” She pulled out a bottle and two glasses, poured out a pair of sizeable nips.

“Drink?”

“Are you going to pay for that?” Malia shook her head. “Then, technically, that’s stealing.”

Malia raised the glasses and clinked them together, toasting herself.

“Both for me, then.”

 

“I think it’s a kitsune. A thunder kitsune, to be exact.”

Scott was trying to play a game, any game, but was glad to toss aside his controller to take the call. It turned out it was less fun when the people constantly killing you weren’t there to gloat in person.

“Lightning in a forest…” Scott’s voice was quiet. “What does it look like?”

“I suppose ‘they’ would be a better term, kitsune are sentient. Actually, they look and act quite human, much like you.” Scott balked at that. It was hard, sometimes, to remember that he wasn’t entirely human. “They can live for an incredibly long time, though. They create tails… talismans, I suppose, every hundred years. Once they have nine—“

“Nine tails?” Scott blurted, “like the Pokemon?”

Deacon was quiet for what felt like a very long moment. “Yes, I suppose so. But once they reach nine tails, they have a chance to ascend to divinity, to become a kind of god.”

Scott was slower to speak this time.

“They can be gods? So, not like the Pokemon, then.”

“I doubt the one you smelled was that old, to be mixing around with humans like that. But you have to be careful, they can still be very powerful.”

There was a tone in Deaton’s voice, a quiet gravity. Scott was worried.

“Deaton, what do you mean? Could somebody get hurt?”

“They’re trickster spirits, Scott. And those tricks can sometimes involve…” Deaton searched for the word. “Collateral damage.”

Scott immediately began to panic, if quietly. If a kitsune was dangerous, he could find it. There was bound to be a trail, he knew what he was searching for. He could return to that street corner, try to catch a scent. The kitsune was in the city, he could probably find them.

But Deaton knew what he was thinking.

“Scott, you have to be careful. You don’t have a pack with you, you’re vulnerable. It’s a risk you don’t have to take.”

Deaton was never the type to give orders, even if Scott was the type to listen to his suggestions. Scott knew Deaton was right, just as Deaton knew Scott couldn’t a potential threat lie. Not a threat to him, but a threat to someone. Someone innocent.

“I’ll be careful,” said Scott, and he meant it.

Outside the sun had set, but he was sure the trail would be burning, bright and invisible, in the dark.

 

Scott could still smell it in the air, crackling with energy. It was fainter now, but still vibrant. Less overwhelmed then before, he could trace the scent around the city, starting from the street he had first met it. It snaked around for several blocks, sometimes crossing over itself before striking out on its own again. Occasionally, Scott thought he smelled another scent along side it, something more earthy and animal, but the kitsune’s presence was too strong, drowning out that other trail.

Eventually it led to a building, one of those nondescript high-rises, but with a small bar nestled at the end of some stairs, tucked into the ground. Both scents, the kitsune’s and the other’s, the former still stronger, lead down those stairs. Scott stood at the top of them, still. For a moment, he almost turned away. After all, a quiet bar on a quiet street wasn’t exactly prime location for a malevolent spirit.

But Scott followed the trail down the steps, pushed open the door.

Inside was about as quiet as he could have expected, looking in. There were a few people scattered throughout the bar, mostly women, sitting in booths or at tables in small groups of two or three, or by themselves. Scott barely took all this in, too distracted by those two scents, one like lightning and the other like earth, filling the room from edge to edge. Distracted, he shuffled to the bar, peeling his coat off in the warm.

He sat and tried to clear his head. He would have to identify the two strangers on sight, their smells muddled everything else in the room. When he was served, it was by a muscular woman, about his age, with brown hair and fiery eyes.

After a moment, their eyes met and she growled, from the back of her throat. Scott inhaled sharply and smelt something, wild and animal.

“Alpha,” she snarled, low and dangerous.

“I’m not here as an Alpha,” Scott whispered hurriedly. He had to be cautious, every inch of had started screaming _fight or flight_ and Scott wasn’t entirely sure which she would choose. “I’m not here to hurt you,” he said. Mistake.

The girl’s nails, now claws, dug slightly into the top of the bar. “Who says you could if you tried?”

“I’m not… I just…” Scott breathed in, trying to keep calm. Around him, the other people maintained a low chatter, constant, pleasant. It didn’t seem like the place for a confrontation. “I caught a new scent, okay? I was trying to track it, to find someone. Not you, I guess.”

The woman, a were- … fox? Coyote? She didn’t back down.

“What do you want with her?”

Scott looked up the bar, to the other bartender. Her face was bright, framed in black hair. He could almost sense an aura of amber flashes, and blue, cloaking her. The kitsune, then.

“I was worried…” his voice trailed for a moment. “I need to be sure. That it was safe.”

The other were almost laughed. “Look at her!” Scott hadn’t stopped looking at her. “No,” she muttered. “ _Look_ at her.”For a moment, her eyes flashed blue.

Scott, understanding, followed suit. His eyes flicked red, once, and she saw her. It looked much like how he had visualised her scent, a wreath of lightning flashes pouring over her head and shoulders, draped like cloth and sculpted like armour.

“She’s young, can barely hide her essence. Not a danger. Not to you.”

But Scott was still staring, tracing with his human eyes the impression of her aura, seeing it reflected not just in her scent, but in her every move. Apparently, the woman misinterpreted his wide-eyed awe.

“You want to talk to her? Fine. But then you go.” Before he could protest, she was already whispering in the kitsune’s ear, gesturing towards him.

She approached, cautious but not scared. Worried, maybe. But when she spoke, there was a hardness.

“Malia said you needed to speak with me.”

“Um.”

It wasn’t Scott’s finest response.

“I didn’t think Alphas have anything to do with kitsunes, especially me.”

“We don’t!”

“I mean, besides, I’m thunder, not void. And I’m still young, not even one hun—“

“I smelt you,” he blurted. She stared at him. “I mean, not in a creepy way, in a wolf way. I caught your scent and it was…”

“Strong?”

“Different. I think was curious.”

“But you thought I was a threat.” She was still acting cautious, but she seemed to have dropped the edge.

“I don’t anymore.”

“Wait, what does that mean?”

“I think it means… you’re nice.”

“I’m nice?”

“In a … not evil way.” Scott hoped he didn’t sound as awkward as he felt. Then he noticed he was smiling, possibly sheepishly, and wondered how long he had been doing that for.

But her face spilt in a grin and it was brighter than sun.

“Thanks.”

He was grinning now, too.

“You’re welcome.”

She held out her hand and Scott took it, noticing the slight callouses on her fingers.

“I’m Kira.”

“Scott.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Scott. ‘Nice’ in a … not evil way.”

They kept smiling and talking. Scott ordered a drink, a bear (“We only have two types.” “I thought two types were all there was.”) They talked for longer, while the bar dwindled. Eventually, Malia packed up the bar around them, finally turning off the lights, forcing them out onto the street.

Scott walked Kira a part of the way home, before they both headed down different streets to their separate apartments. Technically, Kira was walking Scott home as well. The hugged when the parted and it almost didn’t feel strange.

 

“I don’t trust him.”

Kira was setting up. Malia was lying on the bar, staring at the patchy ceiling.

“You don’t trust anyone you don’t think you can beat in a fight. Malia turned her head to Kira.

“I trust you.” Kira set the last chair down and crossed over to her, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Malia’s ear.

“Then trust me.”

Malia swung off the counter top and started pulling out bottles.

“You just like him ‘cause he’s sweet.”

“I could eat candy if I wanted sweet. He’s more than that.”

 

“Don’t you have a pack?”

Scott looked at her. After two weeks, they’d barely talked about anything supernatural, they had kept their conversations strictly mundane.

“Sorry, that was rude,” said Kira. “It’s just, I haven’t seen you with anyone. And you don’t really talk about a pack, so…”

“No, it’s fine. I mean, I have one, they’re all just away at the moment. South America.”

Kira’s brow furrowed in concern. “Did they all go?”

“Not all, really. There’s Allison, but… it’s weird.” Kira didn’t interrupt, let him keep talking. “We used to date, for a while. For a long while, actually. I don’t know if we know how to interact without other people there. As friends.” Scott looked up at Kira. “Maybe I should get a job.”

“What?” Kira was a little dazed by the conversational hairpin turn.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll get more friends. My job on campus closes up over the break, there’s bound to be something. You like working here, right?”

“Um, yeah.” Kira glanced around, at the quiet patrons in their individual huddles, at Malia chewing her nail in the corner. “It’s good. I mean, people don’t really try and hit on me here, which is good. No creepy sex-craving dudes, always a plus.”

“We should see a movie.”

Kira was getting better at managing her conversational whiplash.

“A movie?”

“Yeah! I mean, I never see you outside of this bar. If I need new friends, maybe I should try actually hanging out with the ones I already have, outside of their employment.” Kira smiled at that.

“Sure, a movie. Seems manageable.”

Scott smiled back.

 

One the day of what Malia insisted on referring to as their ‘pretty-much-a-date’, Kira and Scott both rugged up warm, against the frankly ridiculous cold. They wound up seeing a romantic comedy, something disposable and unrealistically white. Kira liked it, even , if she obligatory vaguely-Christmasy theme that cropped up in winter romance movies. She looked away during the ‘love’ scene. Beside her, she could feel Scott tense up slightly. She hoped he didn’t notice her.

By the time they’d left the cinema, it was already dark and tiny puffs of snow drifted down from the pitch-black sky, in clusters of ones and twos. As they both walked down the street, the romance of it pulled at the back of Kira’s mind.

The winter charm (though slightly ruined by the quick-forming slush) was only compounded as they huddled together outside Scott’s building while he searched for his keys (Kira lived further away, so she’d been the one to walk him home). Finally, he pulled out his scratched purple key from somewhere in his pockets.

“Found it!” His smile split the darkness. They stood for a while under the lintel, breath frosting between them. It was almost exactly like a scene from the movie they’d just seen, and Kira was filled with dread at what might happen next.

It was dark and she couldn’t quite see, not with human eyes. But she could feel it, the weight and the tension between them shifting. There were a thousand subtle changes as Scott leaned slowly forward. In response, Kira leaned back, trying to stave him off. She bent so far that her head hit the wall behind her. If she had gone any further, it might even have been comically. Maybe it was comical, to a cruel stranger, to see her pushing herself back against the wall, eyes screwed tightly shut, heart in her throat.

After a while, she cracked her eyes open. She expected to see Scott’s puckered lips, or maybe a look of confusion and anger. All she saw were his dark eyes, warm and concerned.

“Are you alright?” his voice was soft and gentle.

“I don’t kiss,” she said quickly. Kira found it was best to rip the verbal bandaid off quickly, to deliver all of her disappointment in one blow. “I like you Scott, I do. And I want to be whatever this is, but I don’t want to kiss you. Or anyone. I don’t like doing it and I probably never will.” The words poured out of her mouth all in a rush, jumbling together like a confessional waterfall.

There was a moment of quiet and Scott opened his mouth to say something, but Kira cut him off.

“I also don’t like sex.” She smiled wanly. “Just so you know.”

Scott smiled, not the grin of before, but kind and understanding.

“Okay.”

For a moment Kira wondered if there was any more to that sentence.

“Okay? That’s probably the most simple answer I’ve ever had.”

“I’m not sure what else to say. I like you, too, Kira. A lot. I like all of you, all your parts.”

Kira smiled. “My parts?”

“That was probably not a good way to say that.”

“No, it’s fine. I get it.”

The light from the streetlight nearby barely reached them, so they stood together in the gloom, while the snowflakes stopped falling and the muddy slush coated the gutters. Kira took Scott’s hand and held it for a while, not saying anything.

Eventually, Scott said, “I can’t kiss you goodbye.” His face was still warm in the dark. “Can we hug.”

Kira nodded. “We can hug.”

They embraced and Kira felt warmth in her chest. Soon enough, they broke apart and Scott went upstairs to his empty apartment and Kira headed off towards hers.

 

Weeks later they were huddled on Scott’s couch. Game controllers sat next to them, long-abandoned, because it turned out that not a person alive could lose to Scott in any video game known to man. He’d had a call from Derek, still in South America, two days early. They would be coming back, and Cora with them, soon. He’d seen Allison last week, and it wasn’t strange.

But for the moment he was just with Kira, spooning on his sofa. Kira watched him tracing a pattern on the cushion in front of her, the same movements over and over. He ran his fingers in a large circle, and then another inside of it, matching the bands she’d seen running around his arm.

Scott felt warm and safe, wrapped up in blankets and in her. They weren’t touching skin, still keeping on layers to hold in the warmth of his poorly-heated apartment. They lay there for what could have been hours or days or years or seconds, barely needing to speak.

On some level, he was worried what the others might think, of him and of Kira. Sex was a part of the pack’s life, was a part of his and Allison’s life.

But he didn’t need it. With Allison, she wanted it. A lot. And so did Scott. With Kira? She didn’t and so he… didn’t. Instead they cuddled.

For the past two weeks they had been eating together (“Scott, you can’t eat that I can barely work out what’s in it”). Scott visited her at work (“I kinda wasn’t lying, I have like two friends in the country right now”). Kira shot Scott through the skull four times in a row, without him even seeing her (“I’ve never even played this game before!” “I don’t think that matters against me.”)

Above them, a bulb flickered, fizzed and went out. Scott swore. “Another one?”

Kira looked up.

“I can fix that.”

She got up, pulling the blankets with her, rummaging around Scott’s cupboards until she found some spare globes. When she held the bulb, before she’d screwed it in place, it began to spark and glow. And with each and all of his sense, Scott saw that so did she.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure how clear I made it, but Scott's meant to greysexual. Also I'm probably physically incapable of make fluff that isn't sad somehow.
> 
> Please leave customer reviews/blind praise at [scallisaacd.tumblr.com](http://scallisaacd.tumblr.com)


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